Long, long ago, shortly after I first managed
to sneak my way into the comics biz, I'd
make up piles of what amounted to be primitive
prototypes of these more refined cover reinterpretations
and cart 'em along with me to conventions,
hoping to sell a few. While what you see
up there on your screens is derived from
a 10" by 15" black and white original,
employing a full range of rapidographs utilizing
varying sized nibs, these old con illos of
mine were a whole 'nother bird.

Only the focal elements were redrawn, for
instance--no backgrounds, no lettering, no
logos. Additionally, they were rendered in
permanent magic marker, not good ol' India
ink. As a bonus--and hopefully, a selling
point--my lovely wife Lynn went after 'em
with a set of color markers and did her level
best to brighten up my cheesy cartoons. I've
long since abandoned this particular format
for my redos, but back in 1980, I took a
score of 'em with me when I was invited to
attend a big convention deep in the heart
of Houston, Texas as an honored guest--and
sure enough, one of the pieces included was
a simplified version of the above Klassic
Kirby Kover, featuring his oh-so-memorable
depiction of a vastly outclassed group of
neo-Avengers--AND Captain America-- nonetheless
facing down the supremely powerful Dr. Doom,
practically on the very street where the
metal-plated ne'er do well lived!?! And the
reason I'm telling you all this? Well, stick
with me. You'll figure it out soon enough,
I'm sure...

Y'see, that very con--which, in many
ways,
was a total and near complete nightmare--was
where I met Jack Kirby for the one
and only
time in my life!?! Oh, THAT wasn't
the bad
part, not by any means. The big problem
was
the overreaching manner in which this
event
was mounted, promising so much to so
many
people--they actually had all the cast
members
of the original "Star Trek"
signed
up to perform a stage play written
by Chekov
(Walter Koenig, I hasten to add, not
that
OTHER guy...), calling it "The
Ultimate
Fantasy"--as well as comics icon
Kirby,
the likes of Roy Thomas, Richard and
Wendy
Pini, and, yes, even yours truly. I
knew
we were in for big trouble when, while
merely
attempting to check in at the con's
hotel,
we saw the problems Bond girl Caroline
Munro
was having trying to confirm HER reservations!?!
She had just flown in from England--and
boy,
were her arms tired!!--and she was
in no
mood for the complications that were
being
sprung on her. None of us were. The
details
are a little fuzzy, two plus decades
on,
but the gist of it was, the genius
who organized
this mess--and charged big, big ticket
prices
for all aspects of the affair (collecting
as much in advance sales as possible)
but
especially that Trek reunion--up and
absconded
with ALL the money barely hours before
the
doors were scheduled to open!?! We
never
actually dealt with this skunk--and
I have
NO idea how this case eventually played
out--but
luckily we instead were invited to
attend
by a very nice fellow in charge of
the comics
contingent who went by the initials
"J.
R." After he dipped into his bank
account--the
poor sap---and sprung for our room,
HIM we
didn't want to shoot, just the other
guy!?!
(That's a "Dallas" allusion
for
any of you young folks out there. Um,
ARE
there any young folks out there?...)

The three day weekend convention was
always
on the verge of collapsing, but it
somehow
someway successfully struggled to keep
it's
doors open. Not that it wasn't a nerve-racking
experience--I can vividly recall going
up
to my room mid-afternoon on Saturday
only
to find a strongly worded flyer shoved
under
the door courtesy of the hotel. Seems
they
were about to evict us all, and soon,
unless
they got their cash for the balance
of our
stay!! Worse yet--the Star Trek show
may
not even go on!! Heavens! The actors
actually
wanted to be PAID--imagine that? The
night
before this star-crossed "enterprise"
(pun, of course, intended) was on the
verge
of crashing, I remember a great and
lively--if
hopelessly naive--debate in the hallways
amongst the sci-fi show's most rabid
fans,
with the ultimate solution decided
upon being
an attempt to pass the hat and take
up a
collection so as to insure that their
beloved
Trekspians hit the not-quite-Broadway-boards!?!
(And no, no money left THIS ensign's
pocket
towards such a dubious cause, I assure
you!...)

Well, the good news was that, somehow,
we
never got kicked out of our rooms,
and better
yet--YES!-- the immortal original Treksters
put on their little play! Not that
I went
to see it, mind you--and at the outrageously
high ticket prices, neither did very
many
others, leaving the cavernous auditorium
in which it was staged mostly empty
and ripe
for echo practice--but at least the
show
went on. Of course, either Nimoy or
Shatner
dropped out in light of these suspect
circumstances--I
don't rightly recall exactly WHICH
one bailed
on his fans, but hey, take your pick.
I mention
all this calamity just to give you
a bit
of a feel for the sort of strained
atmosphere
under which I got to meet one of the
true
artistic inspirations of my youth!...

Let's go back to that first night,
shall
we? After J.R. so kindly had taken
care of
our accommodations, we checked in,
went up
to our room and dropped off our luggage--what
we had of it, anyway!?! Did I mention
that
a suitcase or two was delayed until
the following
day because the airlines, um, misplaced
'em?
No? And that our car broke down on
the way
to the airport, and to make our flight,
we
had to leave it parked on the side
of the
street and call for a taxi, hoping
it would
still be there when we returned ??
(It was.
Thank Rao for small favors...) All
this is
absolutely true, and all of this was
on my
mind when we FINALLY made our way downstairs
to the con, already underway on a Friday
evening. I spotted a familiar face
from a
previous mutual convention appearance,
the
artist Mike Gustovich. We greeted each
other
warmly, and while attempting to unload
on
him the the Reader's Digest version
of the
trials and tribulations Lynn and I
had just
endured, we both suddenly realized
that none
other than the Great Man himself, Jack
Kirby,
was giving a talk in the very next
room!?!
Well, my self-involved whining could
wait
for another time (say, 23 years later,
zapped
across a medium that hadn't even been
invented
yet! Yeah, sounds right...)--let's
go see
the King!!

Now, what I'm about to confess to you
isn't
exactly easy. Understand that as much
as
I worshiped Jack's drawing while growing
up on his brilliant Marvel Comics work,
I
never fully warmed up to his later
work for
DC, at least not to the same extent.
A large
part of this conflict had to do with
Jack's
idiosyncratic dialog. While his plotting
was as majestic as ever, the words
that came
out of his characters mouths from pretty
much 1970 on just sounded...odd to
my ears.
Bear this in mind, because as we walked
into
the crowded room and heard Jack expounding
enthusiastically from up there on that
stage,
a thought suddenly hit me, a thought
that's
still the one most distinct thing I
remember
after all these years from that infamously
memorable weekend, and without thinking,
that thought just tumbled out of my
mouth...

"Ohmighod--he REALLY talks like
that?!?"

I said it with a certain amount of
astonishment
in the tone of my voice, but after
taking
note of the dirty look Mike quickly
shot
me, I realized that my spontaneous
assessment
of the Great Kirby's manner of speaking
sounded
more like an insult than a comment.
I've
been pretty much embarrassed by it
ever since,
but the truth is, it WAS the truth!?!
Jack
talked just like they did in NEW GODS,
MISTER
MIRACLE, MACHINE MAN, even--heaven
help us--THE
DINGBATS OF DANGER STREET!?! Well,
after
I got over the shock, I settled in
and took
in the rest of Jack's chat, enjoying
it as
my ears became more accustomed to the
unique
Kirby dialect. As for my audience companion,
well, I don't recall if Mike Gustovich
EVER
spoke to me again!...( Okay, okay--he
probably
did, but it'd sure make for a whole
lot better
story if he didn't, don'tcha think?...)

Later that same night, there was a
little
cocktail party for all the guests,
and THAT'S
where I finally met Jack Kirby face
to face!
Needless to say, I was incredibly intimidated
by the very prospect, and it had NOTHING
to do with the language employed. I
mean,
there I was, standing mere inches away
from
one of my all time biggest influences!?!
Yipes all mighty!! Add that to the
fact that
I'd never been particularly comfortable
with
folks that much my senior (which can
no doubt
be traced back to having parents of
an elderly
nature--full and sordid details found
over
in the "Life Story" section
of
this site). I hemmed, I hawed, I said
as
little as possible (unlike the mighty
Kirby,
I apparently couldn't talk at ALL!?!..),
and was greatly relieved when Wendy
Pini
sauntered up and engaged Jack in a
far more
entertaining conversation. But I'd
met Jack
Kirby, by golly! And, along with his
his
wife Roz, he was just as nice as could
be!
Most amazingly, I think what really
floored
me about the encounter was the fact
that
he actually KNEW who I was!?! He wasn't
just
faking it either--I don't recall the
exact
piece of evidence that tipped me off,
but
I was certain that he honest to gosh
knew
who goofy cartoonist Fred Hembeck was!?!
This fact surprised AND tickled me
to no
end, and as I type this, I'm suddenly
flashing
back on the return trip to our room
after
that modest little soiree ended. There
I
was, standing alone in the elevator
with
wife Lynn, just repeating over and
over,
"Jack Kirby knew who I was? He
REALLY
knew who I was!?!", a silly little
smile
pasted across my face all the while.
It was,
most definitely, my supreme Sally Field
moment...

Emboldened by this knowledge, when
I was
situated at a table very near the Kirbys
the next morning, I no longer felt
the tentativeness
I'd suffered from the night before.
And why
should I? Jack and Roz were very down
to
earth, warm people, and there was certainly
no hint of any over-sized ego anywhere
amongst
the pair!! Not that I became any sort
of
chatterbox--I remained respectful of
the
man over to my right. I just treated
him
in a far more casual manner than I'd
ever
dreamed possible. The thing was, the
couple
seemed to have a knack for putting
admirers
totally at ease, and Lynn and I were
not
exempt from their charms. Now, as you
can
well imagine, the fans kept Jack pretty
doggone
busy throughout the entire weekend--hey,
I even had MY hands full at times!?!--so
our opportunities to yak was fairly
limited.
Roz had more time, and she proved to
be a
tremendously delightful woman! You
could
tell she could be tough when she had
to be,
sharing all sort of hard-earned advice
with
us, but you could ALSO tell she could
be
as sweet as could be with folks she
considered
friends. Happily, by the time the whole
affair
wrapped up, I felt we had somehow managed
to qualify for that privileged group!!

As our time in the King's makeshift
court
began to wind down, Jack came over
and suggested
we swap drawings. He was pretty much
doing
pencil sketches of Captain's Victory
and
America exclusively, and he offered
me my
choice. No offense meant towards the
Pacific
Comics stalwart, but inasmuch as Steve
Rogers
costumed alter ego was and remains
my all-time
favorite comic book character, well,
you
can just imagine WHICH one I chose!?!
And
yup, it's long since been framed (by
the
multi-talented Rocco Nigro--thanks,
Roc!)
and hangs on my wall even now! And
as for
MY part of the deal? Remember what
we were
talking about way, way back at the
beginning
of this motley and meandering monolog?...

Uh huh. Jack rifled through the color
illos
remaining in my sales pile. After some
small
consideration, Jack chose my demented
remake
of AVENGERS #25 and I proudly gave
it to
him. Being younger, more naive, and--yup,
no getting around it--stupider, it
never
even occurred to me the inherent tackiness
of that simple act. Here I was, blithely
gifting one of the true geniuses of
the comics
medium with a screwy little rip-off
of a
scene he his own self had first drawn
15
years earlier!?! I mean, was that REALLY
any less cringe-inducing than my earlier
embarrassing outburst (which, thankfully,
took place far out of Jack's earshot)?
But
Jack accepted my offering in good spirits,
and if he ever had any negative thoughts
regarding my playfully plagiarizing
his work,
he never said anything.

Soon enough, having somehow survived
the
constantly collapsing con, it was time
to
truly leave our hotel room for real
and return
home. Sad to say, I never had the honor
of
being in Jack or Roz's presence again,
but
years later, when I scribbled up my
own Christmas
cards in the early nineties for a few
seasons,
I made sure to send them out to the
Kirbys.
Much to my delight, they swapped cards
with
us, buttressing the good vibes by enclosing
a very complimentary note inscribed
therein
regarding my work! Golly, I blush at
the
very thought! They hadn't forgotten
Lynn
and I, much to our everlovin' delight!

Y'know, I've had a chance to take a
second
and even a third look at some of those
seventies
Kirby books in recent times, and yeah,
the
lingo is a tad bit out of the ordinary,
granted.
But you know what? I've come to realize
it's
not HOW you say it, but WHAT it is
that you
say! And what Jack Kirby had to say
(and
Roz, too!!) was ALWAYS worth a listen!